


The Dress

by Suile_Glas



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 15:16:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8922094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suile_Glas/pseuds/Suile_Glas
Summary: A little short that I wrote  a few months ago.  A day with Claire and tiny Bree.





	

The icy December air cut through Claire’s coat as she walked out of the doctor’s office, heels clicking on the pavement as she moved towards her small Ford in the parking lot. She had just left her postnatal checkup with the obstetrician and both she and Brianna had been given clean bills of health. She pulled Brianna’s cap down tighter over her impossibly tiny ears in an effort to shield them from the cold.

“There’s a good girl. Let’s hurry and get you out of this weather, hmm?” she said to the sleeping babe.

Once settled and on the road she decided she did not want to face the chilly solitude of the house on Furey Street where she would be alone just yet. Frank would be working late at the university, trying to finish grading papers and final exams. He had taken a week off following Brianna’s birth and was now trying to catch up, claiming that it was easier to work in the silence of his office. Between Brianna’s fussing and constant waking and Claire’s shuffling during the night to feed her she couldn’t entirely blame him. However, the reality of what was likely going on behind his closed office door still ate away at her.

Surely his assistant isn’t so silent, she thought bitterly as she turned the car to find a parking spot in front of the department store. She took time to feed the baby before going in, aware that it would help keep her quiet as well as fellow shoppers who found breastfeeding vulgar.

A sense of peace and calm always came to her when she nursed Brianna but a wave of sadness slid over her as well, for Jamie would never have the opportunity to see his child at her breast.

Claire had decided that she could use a baby seat for Brianna. As much as cuddling the baby helped to ease the bone-deep ache that constantly plagued her it simply wasn’t practical to hold her all day as she went through the motions of domestic suburban life. Brianna was content enough to be in her crib for long stretches of time, seemingly independent enough to not need to be held every moment but Claire still wanted her close by as she puttered about the house. Baby gear was honestly almost an afterthought for her; the bassinet in her bedroom, the crib in the nursery, and even most of Brianna’s clothes had been given to her by a colleague of Frank’s, whose youngest child had long since outgrown them. She was grateful for the gifts because being in crowded stores and making decisions beyond how to take her tea had been very low on the list of things she wanted to do in the first few months since her return. 

Christmas was only days away and the cheer made Claire want to lash out against all of the smiles and warm wishes from various strangers. Tinsel twinkled all over the store and Bing Crosby’s voice crooned out carols over the din of shoppers as Claire browsed through the baby department deciding on a seat. The cushion had a pattern of little red, yellow, and blue balloons and a tray was attached to the front along with beads that could be slid back and forth once Bree was old enough to need entertainment.

“Do you like this one, sweetheart?” she cooed at the now squirming bundle. The newborn gray twinge of her slanted Fraser eyes had faded to reveal a brilliant blue that, coupled with the fiery red tufts on her head, made her heart clench and flutter every time she looked at her daughter. “Mama could give it to you for your first Christmas. You don’t have much need for toys yet, hmm?”

Brianna crinkled her nose and sneezed in response.

As she walked towards the counter to pay something caught her eye. An exquisitely tiny dress with a lacy bib front, the fabric a rich green plaid with checks of bright crimson, hung on a display rack. The colors were gaudy and brighter than the tartans she was used to seeing, with their dyes derived from the plants and the earth near their place of origin, but the pattern was familiar.

Still, her heart caught in her throat as she reached out and touched the frock, tracing the red lines with her finger. She hadn’t thought about what to dress Bree in but realized that this would suit her for Christmas Eve mass. She was determined to go, even though Frank would be at a faculty Christmas party. There had been no objection when Claire declined the invitation, secretly grateful that children were not welcome at such parties anyway and Bree was still far too young to be left with a sitter. She also knew that Frank would object to the dress upon seeing the plaid pattern, reminding him of all that had happened. 

What he doesn’t see can’t hurt him, Claire thought.

She picked up the delicate little thing and held it up next to Brianna.

With a decisive nod she wiped a tear that threatened to fall from the corner of her eye and with a quick kiss on the baby’s brow whispered “What do you think? It looks a little itchy, but you’ll look so pretty and I’m sure your Da would adore it.”

 

Christmas Eve, 1948

Claire sat in the back pew of the candlelit church decorated with holly and poinsettias listening to Father Beggs tell the Nativity story.

Brianna was awake and alert despite the late hour, a warm weight on Claire’s lap. Her slanted eyes focused intently on the taper burning steadily in the holder at the end of the pew, sparkling in the glow of the flame.

Claire had given her a bath before church that evening, washing the ruddy curls that brought her grief and joy in equal measure before brushing them into a brilliant gleam and pulling them to the side of her head with a tiny white bow. With a pull at her heart she put the ridiculously tiny plaid dress on Brianna, tugging it down to cover her diaper before raising her to her shoulder. 

It should be a different plaid you’re wrapped in, Claire thought solemnly. 

“Ready to go and say a prayer for Da?” she asked quietly. She didn’t do it often but sometimes when Frank wasn’t around she would mention Jamie to Bree, who was fortunately not yet to the age where repetition was a fun game. 

As Father Beggs finished speaking and the choir stood to sing she looked down at the little girl in her arms and couldn’t resist stroking a finger down her daughter’s chubby pink cheek.

Brianna turned her attention from the warm glow of the candle and rewarded Claire with her first sweet smile.


End file.
